


Stranger than Earth

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, I just wanted to warn for it!, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, Nothing done is drug induced other than studying., Nothing major or scary! Just weed and adderall., Self-Indulgent, Sexual Content, Soonyoung-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soonyoung buys something taboo off the Internet, and Wonwoo is his new mailbox neighbor at the mail hub.</p><p>or</p><p>Soonyoung's life is kind of falling apart. Wonwoo isn't helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger than Earth

**Author's Note:**

> So the soonwoo mailbox fic is done.  
> I'm sorry if the formatting is weird ;_; I never seem to have success w/ that lol.
> 
> This is tacky, and I'm sorry. (But don't all of us have really weird, tacky moments in life?)  
> Thank you to [my beautiful](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crumbling/profile) who beta-d the first 4k of this for me. T__T And to Cat for all their support, tbh. 
> 
> **[!!!] WARNING** : This is "Not Rated" because the line between "Mature" and "Explicit" is thin and a little blurry. This is **not** , by any means, a family-friendly piece, but it's also not porn-centric. There is one short but explicit (I guess!) solo-masturbation scene of Soonyoung. I'm sorry? Fuck. 
> 
> I didn't feel it was appropriate to rate it as explicit if sex wasn't the main goal, and the percentage of "porn" in the fic is less than 10% of the overall piece.

Soonyoung hasn’t checked his mail in a while. Like, a long while. Not enough time in the day to check in between classes—that, or he flat out forgets. The university mail hub is hidden away in the most obscure off-branching walkway where the student center feeds into the resource hall. Extremely easy to miss and definitely not worth the time, honestly. Soonyoung checked his mail religiously his freshman year, going to his box almost everyday. After a year and a half of making small talk with his mailbox neighbor (and high school friend), progressively diminishing mail, and the hope of “maybe I got something today” completely died out, Soonyoung never cared enough to make the effort. If it was important, the person mailing him would find a way to contact him—preferably in a current fashion like a fucking phone call or e-mail, perhaps. Not that he checked those either.

But here Soonyoung is, in all his sweatpants and dirty t-shirt clad glory, digging around in his beat up Jansport for his mail key. Only because he’s expecting something. For once. Something he definitely won’t tell anyone about, however. Not that he’s ashamed of this purchase, but he’s not proud either.

Right hand shaking as he fumbles for the lock, keys jingling, he laughs at himself for being nervous. The company guaranteed it’d be discreet: the packaging of the box small and minimalistic with no showy indication of the company or of the contents inside. Really, no one would know, but he’s still nervous. A little embarrassed. Would definitely die if anyone knew what it was. His friends would never let him live it down, probably.

He expels a mixed sigh of relief, crushed hope, and an overwhelming sense of doom as he swings open the metal door of the mailbox. The package isn’t there, but the small box is stuffed with envelopes, booklets, and a mess of tangled headphones (and a Taco Bell burrito wrapper he’d thrown in there last time in a rush). Soonyoung's a little surprised the mail person hasn’t filed a complaint yet. Stuffing the headphones and burrito wrapper into his pocket, Soonyoung drags the massive stack of mail out. Has it really been that long since he checked his mail? How screwed is he because of this?

Not very screwed apparently. Shuffling through the envelopes, Soonyoung sees it’s all bullshit and letters from his overseas pen pal he had to have for one of his courses (“Shit, was I was supposed to respond for a grade?”). A figure appears out of Soonyoung’s peripheral vision, their head ultimately blocked from his view by Soonyoung’s open mailbox door. He can hear them open the one next to his own.

Without looking up, Soonyoung speaks absentmindedly. “Hey, Seungcheol. Haven’t seen you in a while. I never check—,” Soonyoung raises his head to formally look at Seungcheol but is taken aback when it’s not Seungcheol at all, but another person entirely. “Shit, sorry. Thought you were someone else,” Soonyoung eyes shift awkwardly. He suddenly feels a little bit more nervous. The person is taller than him, dark hair kind of mess, eyes mischievous. Soonyoung briefly thinks “if looks could kill” describes him well.

“No problem,” the person assures, voice surprisingly deep. Soonyoung can feel it in his chest, he thinks. “I think the person that owned this mailbox before moved out of the dorms. Glad it opened up. I was sick to Goddamn death of using the post office all the way on Main Street,” he laughs, flipping through his own envelopes.

Oh, yeah. Seungcheol moved into an apartment with some coworkers a few months ago..

“Ah, I forgot about that,” Soonyoung says, shoving his backpack off his shoulder and unzipping it to dump all the mail straight into it. It’s hard for him to zip it back up. “Oh, yeah. I’m Soonyoung. King of never checking his mail, apparently.” Soonyoung straightens up and closes his mailbox and inwardly shames himself for that line.

“Wonwoo,” he introduces himself. “I would say I’ll see you around,” Wonwoo glances at Soonyoung’s overstuffed backpack and takes his mail key out of his own lock. “But something tells me I won’t.” He smiles and turns to toss his mail into the trash bin by the door. “Bye,” he calls out. Soonyoung can only wave weakly.

  


The next day, Soonyoung makes his way to the mail hub for the second time that week, two more times than he’s been in the last three months, that three-month accumulation heap of mail now thrown all over his desk back at his dorm. He feels like dying. Maybe he should stop neglecting mail pickup. With trembling hands, Soonyoung unlocks his mailbox, fingers shaking their way towards the small handle.

“Damn, dude,” a familiar voice resonates, and Soonyoung jumps, a loud-whispered _Shit!_ escaping his throat. “Does checking the mail give you anxiety?” the voice asks, clearly amused at Soonyoung’s reaction.

“You scared the hell out of me, fuck,” Soonyoung clutches his chest, heart beating against his ribcage. Wonwoo stands there, upper lip quirked. Today Wonwoo is dressed attractively—black skinnies and a stupid bomber jacket Soonyoung thought he would never find someone to look good in. The only thing Soonyoung changed when getting up today was his t-shirt, choosing to only apply deodorant as he juggled a cup of watered down coffee while walking out of his dorm. He feels underdressed, all of a sudden, and they’re only conversing at their mailboxes.

“Surprised to see you today, King of Never Checking the Mail,” Wonwoo tells him, opening his mailbox and taking out a small, brown paper wrapped package. Soonyoung’s eyes dart towards it, wondering what could possibly be sent in something so small.

“Care package,” he says in response to Soonyoung’s wandering eyes. Something tells Soonyoung that Wonwoo’s words imply more than something sent from his mother.

“Haven’t gotten one of those in a while,” Soonyoung says, ignoring Wonwoo’s implied hidden meaning. “Dad probably forgot about me.”

“Probably because you don’t check your mail? Or there wasn’t any room in that hellscape from yesterday.”

“Touché,” Soonyoung points his finger at Wonwoo. He pulls open the door, the grating sound of the hinges echoing through their side of the mail hub. He peers in. Nothing. Soonyoung is, yet again, paradoxically feeling relieved and disappointed at the same.

“What are you expecting?” Wonwoo inquires at Soonyoung’s peculiar vibes.

“Nothing!” Soonyoung says all too quickly, slamming the door closed. Wonwoo’s eyes narrow suspiciously, smirk every bit of daunting. “Nothing,” he says quietly.

“Sounds like you could use this care package more than I could,” Wonwoo laughs, stuffing the box into his pocket. “But I don’t share.”

Soonyoung’s curious. “What’s in it?”

“Drugs.” Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “I’m just kidding. Well, maybe I _will_ see you around.” Pushing open the mail hub’s entrance-exit door, Wonwoo let’s out an “I wasn’t actually kidding” in Soonyoung’s direction as he dips out of the doorway. The bells on the door clink and jingle against the glass as it closes behind him.

On the other side of the glass, Soonyoung notices a familiar face from one of his classes, immediately triggering his memory. Impending doom comes back to him, the nearing midterm date for Chem II slapping him dead in the face. He hasn’t studied for it at all, messing up his entire academic schedule he has put a lot of effort into organizing and perfecting. It’s color-coded and everything, hanging up nicely on the wreck-of-a-cork board above his bed. He was supposed to begin studying for it yesterday but completely forgot. Soonyoung blames this recurring situation on his lack of focus for the last two days. Not necessarily the Wonwoo part, even if he is kind of playing part in the accidental same-time, same-place meeting; he doesn’t know him and they’ve barely spoken. But it’s been somewhat distracting, this whole “waiting for a sex toy to come in the mail” thing. Wonwoo’s weird, consistent addition just makes it an ironic rendezvous, in a way. Soonyoung decides the best thing for him to do is use the remainder of his Wednesday studying for a midterm he can’t fail. He needs Chem II to graduate, and if he doesn’t make an A in the class, it’ll look bad. Do higher ups even check that shit when applying for jobs, though? Soonyoung doesn’t want to risk it. And being good at chemistry, well, is good for someone majoring in Chemical Engineering.

  
  


After four hours of an adderall and Redbull induced vigor at the library, Soonyoung decides cutting through the engineering hall is the quickest route to shuttle stop. The sky has faded into a dusky deep blue, and the greenish white tinge of the campus street lights illuminate the campus concrete in an eery glow. Soonyoung pushes open the doors of the all-too-familiar building he has sold his soul to, the bright fluorescent lights feel blinding against his sensitive eyes. His head is pounding, and he thinks maybe adderall and Redbull wasn’t the best decision he could’ve made. Rounding a corner, he sees a familiar bomber jacket clad boy exiting the back entrance and follows suit, the rush of air hitting him as he steps onto the sidewalk.

It’d be weird to call out to him, so Soonyoung waits for them to both reach the shuttle stop, giving him a “hey” as he walks up. Wonwoo is on his phone, eyes looking up at the familiar voice. He’s surprised, it seems, and smiles at Soonyoung.

“Oh! Hey—” but before Wonwoo can finish, he laughs at Soonyoung. “Shit, you look a zonked out as hell, my guy.” Soonyoung should feel offended, but he isn’t.

“You know, exams. Trying to not fall into apathy. Wanting to die. The works,” Soonyoung explains, sounding a little too dead inside.

“That’s very relatable.” And Soonyoung laughs at that, making it Wonwoo’s turn to smile. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since I met you. Something tells me that’s out of character for you, though.”

Soonyoung will admit that Wonwoo is right; he really hasn’t been himself lately. The weight of university and deadlines has been crushing him. School is getting hard, and finding the will to go through with it is even harder. His friends have noticed, but they definitely understand. They’re dealing it with too, after all. He didn’t think Sophomore year would be this hard to survive; he made it through freshman year without too many casualties. Soonyoung is dreading next year; it’s going to be worse at the rate he’s going.

“You’re right,” Soonyoung tells him. “I’ve just been super drained. I’m taking too many hours, and I probably haven’t gotten laid since September. I’m dying, man,” he lets out, but a smile is tugging at his mouth, hand threading through his hair.

Wonwoo barks out a laugh. “I totally understand. College is, like, this neverending, relentless fuck machine. But not the kind of fucking you want.” Soonyoung can’t believe Wonwoo just compared college to a fuck machine. Soonyoung thinks back to what he ordered in the mail and how he really just fucking _wish_ it had come today. That would’ve been a decent end to this evening.

“Something tells me you’re into some weird shit, Wonwoo.” Wonwoo only smirks at that. Soonyoung changes the subject. “I’m assuming you’re going to the dorms?”

“Yeah—well, actually I’m going to the caf. I haven’t eaten today, and I’m starving.” The sound of the shuttle driving up whirrs in Soonyoung’s ears. “Wanna come with?” Wonwoo asks, standing up and adjusting his backpack to board the bus.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, if you’re not meeting anyone. I don’t want to impose or whatever.”

“No! No way. The only person I eat with is my roommate and he’s off somewhere doing God knows what with God knows who. I don’t want to eat alone. Please?” Wonwoo could probably give that look to Soonyoung for the most ridiculous request, and Soonyoung would say yes every time.

“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung says in faux defeat, hands raised.

“Good.”

  
  
  


Dinner goes by smoothly. Not that it wouldn’t have. But Soonyoung was worried regardless. He’s hung out with people he barely knows at spurs of the moment. Sometimes college allows for that to happen; that’s how you become friends with people here. Maybe it’s because Soonyoung might find Wonwoo a little attractive. It makes him nervous. Soonyoung knows himself and human nature well enough that he’d probably get off to Wonwoo with his recent purchase if it had come in the mail today. He tries not to think about it with the other literally sitting across the table from him.

“So,” Soonyoung speaks up, “do you have a class in the engineering building?”

“Yeah, I take a math class in there. It sucks because it’s so late in the day. Like, fuck, by that time I’m ready to go home.”

“Something about that building just sucks your fucking soul out, dude. I suffer there daily,” Soonyoung laughs.

“Are you an engineering major?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m Chemical Engineering. It’s… it’s… yeah,” Soonyoung says, pushing a piece of broccoli around his plate with a fork.

“That seems… very ugly.”

“It really fucking is.” Soonyoung pauses and looks at Wonwoo, who is currently picking the ice cubes out of his cup to eat them. “What’s yours?”

“I’m a Comp Sci major. It’s equally as unfun as Chemical Engineering, I guess.” Wonwoo breaks an ice cube with his teeth. “Hopefully it’ll get me a job.” Wonwoo is weird. It’s cute. “So what are waiting for? In the mail, I mean. You seem to be shaken up every time I see you there.”

“It’s… It’s hard to explain.” It really isn’t. But Soonyoung isn’t going to tell some hot stranger he bought a dildo online. Yeah, I bought a sex toy so I can fuck myself on particularly stressful or high libido days because I haven’t been fucked in almost seven months, and I’m getting tired of just my right hand. I love dealing with the stress of it being delivered to my on-campus mailbox where other people frequently visit. So, have you been to any good university games lately? Haha!

Wonwoo takes the hint that Soonyoung doesn’t _want_ to explain.

“You have some shit to hide, don’t you?” Wonwoo teases, but not unkindly. “I won’t pry,” he adds, putting his crumpled napkins and silverware onto his dining tray. “Which dorm do you live in? I’ll walk you there.”

  
  
  


After a particularly unexpected but welcome email from his professor that class was cancelled, Soonyoung decided to say “fuck it” to absolutely everything that day. Thank God Tuesday-Thursdays were the only days he had one class. No classes, no studying, no mail checking. Just bed. Bed all day with no interruptions. The beautiful perks of having a single dorm. An observation of which Wonwoo commented on yesterday evening, ass sitting comfortably in Soonyoung's swivel chair, something in his voice Soonyoung couldn’t quite pinpoint. He doesn’t want to look into it. Nothing good ever comes from that.

Soonyoung’s head drifts to all his responsibilities and routines, ticking off one by one all the important things he should do to be better person. He’s not going to get out of bed to shower, but instead tug the soft fabric of his comforter closer to his face. Shoving his hands under the cool pillow he should have replaced six years ago, letting his face rest comfortably against it instead of rummaging through his mini-fridge for something unexpired to eat. He won’t change into fresh clothes, choosing to stay in those God-awful sweatpants whose pant leg hems have seen better days, torn and dirtied from concrete treks across campus. His bed is asking him to stay; studying can wait, mail can wait, brushing his teeth in the shower can wait, everything can wait.

So Soonyoung does just that: he lays in bed the entire day—four hours of _The Walking Dead_ and four hours of falling in and out sleep. His eyelids are heavy and the sky has completely faded out into black when he rouses from sleep, semi-hard cock pressing uncomfortably into his cotton sheets through his sweats. Soonyoung can’t just “leave it”; it’s not something he can will away—well, not today, anyway. Not under his circumstances.

He tells himself this—justifying it—rolling halfway onto his side as he yanks his sweats down his ass and past his cock. His mind flickers to Wonwoo. _Of course it does._ He’s the only person Soonyoung has spoken to lately that wasn’t a professor or librarian. _Justifying_ getting off with Wonwoo in the back of his mind, fingers wrapped around his dick, the weight of it heavy in his hand. Soonyoung jerks himself fully erect and justifies thinking of Wonwoo’s mouth sucking him off, those perfect teeth grazing the head of his cock to tease him. Soonyoung gathers spit in his mouth, raising his hand to lick his palm to get lubrication. His hand settles back onto his hard-on and twists his wrist around the base and brings his palm around the head. Dragging the precome down his length, he ruts into his fist, head of his cock hitting the softness of his sheets. The sensation is different, good even. Soonyoung fucks into his fist with each stroke, letting his cock gain friction in his hand and against the sheets.

Soonyoung can tell he’s close already. It’s been awhile since he got off and he, as much as he hates to admit it to himself, really wants to ride this out for as long as possible. Wants to come feeling sated and fucked. Swirling his thumb over the head, air escapes his chest, a small whine coming out octaves higher than usual. Soonyoung just presses his cheek further into his pillow and wonders what Wonwoo sounds like being jerked off. Soonyoung would pull Wonwoo’s knees apart, take his cock out and fist Wonwoo’s dick until he would give in and press his palms into Soonyoung’s skull, wordlessly begging him to do something with his mouth. Soonyoung would let Wonwoo throat fuck him, come and saliva running down his chin. Soonyoung’s pace speeds up, short and jerky hip thrusts stuttering out to him coming onto his fingers, sheets, the hem of his shirt.

Soonyoung groans. _Fuck_. Is he fucked up for that? Maybe.

Soonyoung drags his come-covered hand over his sheets, making sure to get it out from between his fingers. Goddamnit, these are his only sheets and he’s scared if he doesn’t wash them soon, they will definitely stain. Soonyoung can’t be fucked to care at this point, getting up to strip the sheets off and throw the wad of fabric into the hamper (he misses). He picks his phone up from the floor and checks the time before shoving it into his sweats pocket. 8:19 p.m. Soonyoung takes his shirt off by the hem, dropping it onto the floor somewhere, and yanks on a worn-soft high school hoodie he got in grade nine. The vinyl letters are peeling off, and the color has faded from it’s original deep navy to a dirty blue-grey after years of washing. It still smells faintly of home and of sour laundry that was left wet in the washing machine too long. It’s oddly comforting.

Hunger begins to gnaw at Soonyoung’s throat and growl in his stomach as he realizes he hasn’t eaten today. Washing his hands in the sink and drying them off with a particularly questionable towel, he figures the only convenient (and unfortunately not cheap) food is the dorm deli. He should be thankful it’s open 24 hours, but the food is unreasonably fucking expensive. But it’s also around 8:20 p.m. on a Thursday, and Soonyoung is wearing something he wouldn’t really consider socially acceptable outside of campus. He digs out from under his shitty twin bed a pair of beaten up Nike slides and prays to God he doesn’t run into anyone he knows tonight. Soonyoung slips the Nike slides over his mismatched socks, leaving his dorm and not even bothering to lock the door behind him.

The dorm’s community deli is a five minute walk from Soonyoung’s room, which is just enough time for the Universe to make Soonyoung’s life a little bit more uncomfortable. On the opposite side of the street, Wonwoo is standing on the sidewalk, phone in hand, dressed like God wants Soonyoung dead. Soonyoung isn’t sure why Wonwoo is standing there, but he assumes he’s waiting for someone to come outside. By the disgusting divinity of heaven, Wonwoo looks up at the only other noise outside that is Soonyoung’s shuffling flip flops on concrete. His eyes light up in recognition and begins to walk over to Soonyoung. Soonyoung panics but waves, nonetheless, and pulls out his phone to open the message app; it’s one of those moments that’s too fucked up to not share in a group chat.

 _i just ran into the person i jerked off to not even ten minutes ago._ ►  
**me 8:27 PM**

◄ _that's twisted_  
**Jihoonie 8:27 PM**

◄ _oh my god?_  
**Jeonghan 8:27 PM**

◄ _details_  
◄ _of the meeting not you jacking off that's gross_  
◄ _but that too if you want i'll still read it_  
**Junhui 8:27 PM**

 _he’s walking over right now fuck_ ►  
**me 8:27 PM**

◄ _post-jerk off meeting commence_  
**Junhui 8:28 PM**

They exchange hellos, breath coming out in misty wisps in the March evening air. Soonyoung feels bad. He also feels like he’s disassociating. He’s making small talk with the person he just came on his sheets over on a sidewalk at 8:30 PM.

“What the hell are you doing out here right now?” Wonwoo asks, sticking his phone inside that dumb bomber jacket.

“I’m going to the deli because my stomach was digesting itself,” Soonyoung replies, ignoring the group chat messages vibrating against his thigh in his pocket. “What are you doing?” Soonyoung briefly thinks they look like two people making a drug deal to a passerby or nosy resident.

“Waiting for someone. They’re taking a long time though,” he laughs. “I can walk with you to the deli, though.” It comes off more as a question more than a statement.

“Yeah, that’s okay with me. I’m also sorry that I look like I crawled out of Satan’s asshole. I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.” Soonyoung fingers the ends of his sleeves into his fists.

“Nah, you look fine,” Wonwoo says, taking the first steps towards the deli. How can he even say that dressed the way he is? Wonwoo, again, looks like God wants Soonyoung dead, and Soonyoung looks like he also wants himself dead. He hasn’t showered in two days. At least he brushed his teeth last night. Fuck. Maybe he should do that when he gets back to his dorm. _I’ll start taking initiative to dress like someone with purpose in life when mid-terms are over._

“I look lifeless, but thanks,” Soonyoung is incredulous. He thinks, if fate permits it, that is Wonwoo becoming a recurring thing in his life, he will eventually get used to things the other says. “You look very ‘dressed to kill,’” he comments.

“I’m going to a party in midtown. I haven’t gone out in a while. Life, you know,” Wonwoo says, pulling out his phone to message someone, fingers dashing over the touch screen keyboard. Soonyoung catches the text, Wonwoo not looking up. He can’t see it well, but he can make out _With someone. Give me a sec you impatient shit_.

“You’re going to a party on a Thursday night?” Soonyoung tries to play it off like he wasn’t just looking at Wonwoo’s phone. He probably didn’t notice.

“Fuck yeah I am. Do you want to come?” he asks, looking up from his phone and at Soonyoung. Soonyoung’s mind flashes to that same phrase being used in a different context, and his cheeks turn pink. He hates himself. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Uh, n-no. No, it’s okay. I don’t feel like getting dressed,” Soonyoung stutters out, turning his head to look forward. Well, he’s not lying.

Wonwoo’s phone screen lights up signaling a text message just came through. “Ah, yeah. I understand.” Wonwoo looks down at the message. “Fuck, my friend is on his way down. I’ll catch you later,” he says stepping backwards. “I hope,” Wonwoo adds before breaking into a run in the other direction.

A purchase of two sandwiches and a blue Gatorade later, Soonyoung throws “dinner” onto the bed he plops his tired ass onto. He remembers his group chat and struggles to remove his phone from his pocket while sitting cross-legged, the phone getting tapped stubbornly in the corner of its reaches. Reading the first four messages, Soonyoung decides he doesn’t want to deal with it and unwraps a sandwich.

  
  
  


Soonyoung didn’t plan on waking up at ass crack of dawn to get the mail. Okay, so it wasn’t ass crack of dawn. But anytime before 12 P.M. was ungodly, and Soonyoung being awake anytime before 9 A.M. was unheard of. It was 7:30 in the morning, and Soonyoung would rather be dead than awake. His schedule was busy today: he needed to get studying in, had three unfortunate back-to-back classes, and a required seminar that followed his final class that would last at least an hour and a half. Soonyoung knows it will drag on longer than that; the lecturer is known for droning on about unrelated issues that he _somehow_ manages to relate back to the centric discussion point. So maybe it was a little desperate of him to check his mail for a dildo as his first priority of the day, but people have done stranger and more desperate things.

The Universe, at it again with it’s incessant hurl of bullshit, throws Wonwoo into Soonyoung’s line of sight, standing at a vending machine outside the dorm building across the street from his. Why is it, that before a few days ago, he had never seen Wonwoo in his life, and now he is around every corner Soonyoung turns? He’s not complaining, per se; it’s just unsettling. The coincidences leading up to this soon-to-be moment better be good.

He soon learns the coincidence is valid.

Soonyoung decides to suck it up and walk over to Wonwoo. They could take a shuttle to the central part of campus together and part ways for their own priorities. Soonyoung becomes within earshot, greeting him with a casual “good morning.” Getting closer, Soonyoung notices Wonwoo looks a fucking _wreck_. Or more like a _fucked_ wreck. Soonyoung knows better. He’s had his fair share of “this look.” Wonwoo’s hair is a disheveled mess, clothes crumpled and haphazard, jeans halfway zipped, jacket falling off his shoulders. His neck is littered with small, red blooming bruises, lips bitten red, and Soonyoung thinks he can see teeth marks etched into Wonwoo’s collarbone. Soonyoung really can’t _not_ stare. Fuck. He’s in awe at how good Wonwoo looks completely fucked. Soonyoung can’t tell if he’s jealous Wonwoo got laid or that someone got laid with Wonwoo. He tries to kill his oncoming hard-on.

Wonwoo looks at Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes, inserting a worn dollar bill into the machine, toothy smirk opening across his face. “You should see the other guy,” he winks, digging through his pocket for the remaining fifty cents.

“ _Fuck_ , Wonwoo,” is all Soonyoung can say. Soonyoung never thought he’d run into Wonwoo doing the walk of shame. Wonwoo shoves a mix of change into the machine and presses the buttons, the tiny sparkling ding of the feeling out of place in this atmosphere.

“That’s what he said. Nah, I’m kidding,” Wonwoo jokes, reaching down to take out a bag of salt and vinegar chips from the machine’s metal swinging door. Soonyoung would be fucking kidding himself if he let himself ignore that Wonwoo said _guy_ and _he_. Great, more things for Soonyoung to fantasize about and jack off to. Soonyoung almost wants to make that joke out loud like he may have any other time with any other friend; it’s funny because he’s kidding. He’s not so sure it’d come out that convincingly as _just joking_ this time.

“You clean up nice,” Wonwoo comments.

“I like that you consider jeans ‘cleaned up’ for me.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Wonwoo raises his eyebrows.

  
“N–yes.”

“So, where are you headed?” Wonwoo asks, struggling to open the bag of chips.

“Uh, the shuttle. Then to check my mail.” Soonyoung wants to combust.

“The mail, huh? You sure your title as King of Never Checking the Mail shouldn’t be changed to King of Obsessively Checking the Mail?” Soonyoung laughs at that.

“The title will return soon enough. My package has to be here today or tomorrow. I didn’t check yesterday. Any longer than that, I’ll have to call and complain, honestly.” Soonyoung tries to imagine that conversation. _Yes, hello, my dildo hasn’t come in the mail yet?_ Soonyoung’s life is one big fucking joke.

“Mind if I ride the shuttle with you?”

“Of course not. But don’t you want to, like—shouldn’t you, uh—” Soonyoung makes ambiguous motions at Wonwoo’s appearance.

“I have looked worse going to nicer places.”

Soonyoung can relate.

“Besides,” Wonwoo starts, “I have a class in fifteen minutes. I’ll get some stares, but fuck them, I guess.” If anything, Soonyoung admires that Wonwoo is going to class at all after whatever he went through last night.

The shuttle ride is awkward, but only because Soonyoung has fully realized he wants Wonwoo to fuck him on his stupid bare mattress in his dorm. Over his desk, maybe. Anywhere. Soonyoung could cry at the thought. He might. But the bus comes to a full stop in Central, squeak of the breaks disrupting the quiet turmoil of Soonyoung’s thoughts. Passengers board off single file, Wonwoo and Soonyoung the last two to trail off the steps.

“Sorry I’ve been so quiet,” Soonyoung says, breaking the silence. He felt like he needed to say something. Anything. “Not really a morning person.”

“No, I get that,” Wonwoo replies, the clock tower gonging in the distance. “Shit, it’s already eight?” he asks, desperately trying to pull himself together to look somewhat presentable. “Ah, fuck. I gotta run, but I’ll see you. For sure,” he says, turning to run off towards his class.

“Bye!” Soonyoung yells to his back, smiling a little at that _For sure_. He wishes he could always say more to Wonwoo. He’s always unsure, struck silent, mind wandering, maybe a little out of it. It’s not like Wonwoo seems to mind or anything, but Soonyoung hates his lack of contribution.

Soonyoung makes his way to the mail hub, backpack weighing him down more than usual. He laughs at himself when he finally gets there, mailbox open and definitely empty. Seriously, why has it taken this long for a fucking sex toy to come in the mail? Soonyoung is getting frustrated and embarrassed. This day is going to be long, and Soonyoung isn’t ready for it.

  
  
  


D-Day arrives. Soonyoung can feel it in his gut that today is the fucking day. He almost didn’t get out of bed; it’s Saturday, for fucks sake, and yesterday murdered his ass. All three of his classes were brutal, and Dr. Hussein lived up to his infamous trait of incessant talking; Soonyoung almost, _almost_ bolted early. Something told him to stay the entirety of it; his professor was there, sitting quiet and attentive in the corner of the auditorium. He didn’t want to risk missing any information that could be thrown onto a quiz, or more importantly, used for extra credit. Arriving at his dorm later that evening, he decided to do nothing but press his face into his pillow with cartoons playing in the background. He could have done that today, too, but tomorrow is Sunday, meaning the hub is closed.

Soonyoung pushes the mail hub door open with his left hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right, hating himself for something he can’t quite pinpoint. How desperate and anxious he is for a sex toy to come in the mail or to see if he’ll run into Wonwoo? The possibility of both is high. Wonwoo’s recurrence in this situation is interesting and makes this entire weird experience almost funny, in a way.

  
Soonyoung finds himself lingering around the rows of mailboxes, digging through his backpack and taking more time than usual to look for his keys, anything to waste time, really. He mentally kicks himself in the gut for it. Wonwoo doesn’t show up, however; and Soonyoung can’t just stand there dumbly and dig through his backpack one more time for something he’s already found. Something about cute boys makes one pathetic, he supposes. Or the subconscious desire to have your dirty secrets revealed to an attractive stranger is always thrilling. Probably the latter. Soonyoung will admit to liking the idea of ruining himself a bit. Maybe it’s human nature.  


Soonyoung takes his key and unlocks it slowly, the small click it makes almost satisfying. His eyes widen at the sight before him, heart speeding up for what feels like a good reason this time. Thank _God._ There it is: white packaging, minimalistic and ambiguous company logo printed in black in the top corner of the box. Soonyoung reaches for it with both hands, the smooth cardboard cool against his palms. Really, this is a religious experience.

“Hey, neighbor,” a deep voice calls out to him, and Soonyoung jolts, dropping the package to the floor with a dull thud.

“Fuck!” Soonyoung yells in a surprised panic, heart beating wildly into his lungs. He feels like he’s going to throw up. Can Wonwoo stop catching him off guard, please?

Before he can respond to Wonwoo or even squat down to pick up the box, Wonwoo lets out a breathy “Shit, Soonyoung” that makes Soonyoung’s face flare up. Oh, fuck.

“Holy fuck, you're nasty. Who woulda thought?” Wonwoo asks, but not unkindly. Soonyoung can hear the smile in his voice.

Soonyoung presses his forehead into the bottom of his mailbox and sighs.

“Don't be like that, dude. We all got our shit, alright. I mean, I noticed what it was so that says something about me, probably.”

God wants Kwon Soonyoung fucking dead.

“I want to die.” Soonyoung’s voice sounds small.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Wonwoo laughs. “You just got hotter, though,” he says, picking up the box from the floor.

“What—” The back of Soonyoung’s head hits the the metal framing of the mailbox as he tries to come out of it. Great. Wonderful.

Wonwoo tries to stifle a snicker. “Were my signals bad? Or are you oblivious?”

“There is a possibility of both,” Soonyoung says, turning to take the box from Wonwoo’s hands. Soonyoung feels excited, though. Wonwoo has just openly admitted to being attracted to him. Maybe this isn’t a total shitstorm. God, he feels like he’s in high school again. Gross.

“That’s fair.” Soonyoung can’t stop smiling.

“Did you already check the mail?” Soonyoung asks, taking notice that Wonwoo hasn’t opened his mailbox or even have mail in his hands. “Why are you here?”

“Waiting for you, of course.” At this rate, Soonyoung is going to have constant high blood pressure.

“H-how’d you know you’d run into me at this time?” Soonyoung nervously runs his thumbs over the corners of the box.

“I didn’t,” is all Wonwoo says.

“You waited for me to come here knowing I might not show up? Such chivalry. I admire that in a man.”

“God, don’t say it that way. It makes me sound desperate.” Wonwoo hits Soonyoung’s shoulder playfully. “Talk to me like that more, though,” he winks.

“Please don’t get me hard in public,” Soonyoung deadpans, and Wonwoo loses it. Soonyoung feels a little more himself after this whole stranger-than-earth fiasco.

“So…” Wonwoo trails off.

“So?”

“Would you like to, uh, exchange numbers? I don’t want it to be three more months before I run into you again, King of Never Checking the Mail.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another rushed ending it seems. Maybe not rushed, really. Just poorly executed. I'm tired & wanted this fucking done lmao.  
> I'm trying to write more to become better at it. It's stressful...  
>   
> I'm also surprised at myself for writing Soonyoung's purchase to be a sex toy bc I personally don't like them or reading about them in fic. But SY seems like the type, I think.  
> At first I was worried the masturbation thing was too soon? Or like unrealistic? But then I thought about myself (LOL). And then I was like if you can fuck someone w/ having just met them you can most certainly jerk off to them, i think.
> 
> I really like this pairing lately! I feel bad for cheating on soonhui (I'm sorry Hannah ur still my love). Maybe I'll write soonhui eventually ;3;
> 
> comments and stuff r appreciated (/)//3//(\\)
> 
> For those of you that don't know, a fuck machine is well... A machine... that fucks you... I'm screaming um.. Idk how to else to explain. It's... like a mechanical dildo? I'M TOO SHY FOR THIS FUCK GOODBYE HAVE A NICE DAY


End file.
